Hepatic Hero
by GrandOldPenguin
Summary: When Private is suddenly stricken with a life-threatening medical condition, a radical solution is the only remedy.
1. Predicament

"Rise and shine, boys!" Skipper greeted his men awake at precisely 0600 hours, the beginning of another day at the penguin HQ. "I'll see you all topside in three minutes."

"Three minutes, sir?" Kowalski wondered as he rubbed his eyes. "You're not giving us any time for breakfast this morning before training? Not even for a little coffee?"

"You think when our doughboys were awakened by an enemy assault during the First World War that they reached for their bagels before their bayonets? For their Folgers before their firearms?" Skipper questioned. "We have to be prepared for anything at anytime. The enemy just isn't going to sit around and wait while we butter our biscuits. And that's why we're going to get right into the action today." He then took a glance up at the clock. "Make that two minutes till topside, boys. Up, up."

Kowalski quickly emerged from his bunk, with Rico soon following his lead. As Rico then began heading for the ladder, Kowalski waddled over to Skipper. "How come you get to have coffee this morning?" he inquired as he gestured to the mug Skipper was holding.

Skipper smiled before taking a sip. "Such is a luxury of being the skipper. Now off you go."

As Kowalski then made his exit, Skipper looked across the room to the bunks to see that Private was still in bed. "Come on, Private, you don't want to be late," the commander called over to him.

"Um, Skipper, I'm not really feeling very well this morning," Private responded quietly. "Do you think that I could skip this morning's training? I promise I'll make it up."

"Negatory," Skipper replied. "I'll be glad to get you a Pepto-Bismol or whatever else you need to get on your feet, but I'm still going to need you topside."

Skipper then looked closer at Private and saw just how weak and worried his soldier looked. Concerned, he placed his coffee mug down and quickly waddled over to the bunks. "This isn't a run-of-the-mill upset stomach, is it?" he asked as he placed a flipper on Private's forehead.

Private shook his head.

"Well, there's no sign of fever," Skipper continued. "How do you feel, exactly?"

"I can't describe it, but I sure don't like it," Private answered. "It's like something I've never felt before, or rather like some part of me is missing altogether. I'm scared, Skipper, I really am."

The only time Skipper had seen Private anywhere near as nervous was when he was having one of his badger-induced panic attacks, and even those seemed pale in comparison. Private wasn't one to ever fake an illness to avoid duty, so it was clear to Skipper that Private was truly feeling ill. And severely at that.

"Forget what I said earlier about the training," Skipper said after a moment. "There will be none at all today, in fact. Just give me a minute to go fetch Kowalski and Rico and I'll be right back to help you any way I can."

"Thanks, Skipper," Private said as he smiled. Skipper then waddled away toward the ladder and ascended it.

Once atop the habitat's platform, Skipper approached his other two men. "Change of plans this morning, boys," he said. "Private's come down with something and we all need to look after him until he's feeling better. Kowalski, I'm going to need your help to figure out what Private's ailment even is. I'm worried about the little guy, I really am."

"He didn't try to take another shot for you, did he?" Kowalski asked as he, Skipper, and Rico began to head back into the HQ.

"Not that I know of," Skipper replied. "He still only has one head, at least as far as I can tell."

Once back inside, the three waddled up to their ill teammate at his bunk. Kowalski pulled out a thermometer from thin air and gestured that he was going to take Private's temperature. "Don't worry, Private, this is an oral thermometer—we're not barbarians here," he stated as he swiftly placed the glass instrument into Private's beak.

"I already felt his forehead and didn't suspect he was feverish at all," Skipper commented.

"You may be right, Skipper, but it can't hurt to check with a more accurate indicator," Kowalski replied.

After a few minutes went by, Kowalski withdrew the thermometer and read it. "Right where a penguin should be," he said.

"Well, what do you think it could be, then?" Skipper inquired. "Mercury poisoning?"

Kowalski shook his head. "Doubtful, considering that we all eat from the same fish supply. Speak up if you've detected any greater tang of the hydrargyrum variety lately, but I certainly haven't."

"Bird flu, perhaps?"

"A scientist properly refers to it as _influenza A virus subtype H5N1_, but since there's no fever, I do not believe that to be the cause either."

"Well, if you know what it _isn't_, can you say what it _is_?" Skipper asked.

"I'm drawing a blank off the top of my head, to be honest," Kowalski responded. "However, I'm fairly certain I can eventually figure out the problem by conducting a series of tests. It might take a while, though."

"Then get on it," Skipper said. "Private shouldn't have to feel the way he does for even a minute longer than he has to. Operation: Make Private Feel Better and Feel Better Quickly is our only priority today."

And so, after fetching some supplies and equipment from his lab, Kowalski began a thorough battery of tests and diagnostics, some more pleasant than others.

Hours later, after a methodic analysis of all the data he had collected, Kowalski called Skipper into his lab.

"What is it, Kowalski?" Skipper asked.

"Not good," Kowalski responded in a serious tone. "I've determined the cause of Private's symptoms. I normally wouldn't share anyone's private medical information without consent, but I don't think Private would care that I'm bending the rules a little. You might want to sit down for this one, sir."

"Just give it to me straight, Kowalski," Skipper said as he waved a flipper to dismiss the suggestion. "No use beating around the bush."

"All signs point to his liver failing," Kowalski continued.

Skipper placed his left flipper into his right and massaged the end of it as he absorbed the news. His right eye jerked a bit with worry. "But ... he'll live, right?" he asked after a moment had gone by.

"For now," Kowalski replied. "Months, at least, which gives us a long enough opportunity to take action."

"Kowalski, how are we ever going to help him through something like this?" Skipper wondered as he covered his face with his flippers, his eyes becoming more than a little damp. "The vets are not going to be of any use to us here; he's just a penguin to them. Even Shawna would probably put him down without even trying anything."

"True, but there are a lot of penguins at zoos and aquariums all throughout this country, Skipper, many within a few hundred miles of here," Kowalski continued. "Besides us, there are penguins at the Bronx Zoo, Philadelphia Zoo, Maryland Zoo, Mystic Aquarium, Boston Aquarium, Pittsburgh Zoo, and the National Aviary, just to name a few."

"What does any of that matter?" Skipper wondered.

"Well, given that there aren't too many cadaveric penguins out there who once indicated that they were organ donors on their driver's licenses, our only alternative is live donation," Kowalski continued. "Liver tissue has a remarkable ability to regenerate itself. What we need to do is find another penguin who is a suitable blood and tissue match with Private who would be willing to donate a portion of his or her healthy liver. Then I'd perform the necessary surgeries myself."

"You? Playing around with vital organs?" Skipper wondered. "I thought Albert was your middle name, not Frankenstein."

"There just aren't any other options, Skipper," Kowalski responded as he flipped his clipboard around for Skipper to see. "This is the one and only."

"Short of turning to the black market in Denmark, but they'd never help anyone connected to me," Skipper added. "All right, Kowalski, let's start local. I want every penguin in a 500-mile radius tested for compatibility. Even us. If we find a match who's altruistically inclined, great. If they need a push, bribe them with anything and everything. If they need a shove, well, that's what we've got Rico for."

"I'll get right on it," Kowalski declared. "Only one thing that has to be done first."

Skipper sighed. "I know," he said. "We have to tell Private."

Kowalski nodded. "I think he'll take it a little better knowing that the two of us are there with him," he said. "Not that it doesn't shatter my heart or yours to have to do it, though."

The two then exited from Kowalski's lab and made their way over to Private, who had found the strength to get out of bed to watch a little _Lunacorns_ on TV. As Skipper approached, he shut the TV off before sitting himself down on the floor next to Private.

"Skipper, that episode was an all-new—" Private began to object, only to stop when he felt Skipper's flipper on his back.

"Private, all those tests I ran on you this morning have led me to conclude the cause of your symptoms," Kowalski began. "Unfortunately, you're not suffering from something simple. Your liver is failing."

"My _what_?" Private asked in shock as he looked over to Skipper and then back to Kowalski. "But how can this be?"

"That I wasn't able to conclude," Kowalski continued. "Your case seems to be idiopathic: without any explainable cause."

"Will I die?"

"Skipper and I are going to stop at nothing to ensure that you have every chance possible."

"But what are the odds, Kowalski?"

Kowalski pulled out his abacus and slid a few of its beads around for a moment before stopping abruptly and tossing the ancient calculating tool aside. "That was just cold," he said sadly. "I can't believe I just did that, and I'm truly sorry."

"It's OK, Kowalski, you didn't mean anything by it," Private replied. "But could you leave me alone with Skipper for just a moment, please?"

Kowalski nodded. "Sure," he said as he slowly waddled across the room to give Skipper and Private some space.

"Will I die, Skipper?" Private wondered. "What does your gut say about my chances?"

Skipper must have asked his gut thousands of questions over the years, but he couldn't remember the last time he had to consider one this important. It certainly wasn't one to be taken lightly, so Skipper thought it over until he literally felt something click. "You know, there's an interesting feeling inside of me right now that I can't describe too well, but it's sending me strong signals that you're going to pull through," he then said. "You can't die, Private, you're just too responsible for maintaining a certain level of the joy and innocence in the world."

"That's touching, Skipper," Private responded, "though perhaps a bit out of character for you."

"Kind of like you worrying about death is," Skipper replied. "Don't dwell on it, Private. Just trust your own gut and it will never let you down. And neither will I."

* * *

><p><strong>About the title:<strong> _Hepatic_ is a medical term used in reference to the liver. It is derived from the Greek word for liver, _hepar_. You've probably heard of the liver ailment hepatitis—this is where the name of the condition comes from.

**Next publication:** Thank you for reading through the first chapter. _Hepatic Hero_ is only a two-chapter story. Its second and final chapter will be published on Sunday, May 15.


	2. Bond of Brotherhood

"How was the _Lunacorns_ marathon?" Kowalski asked as Skipper joined him in his lab a few hours later.

"Completely unbearable," Skipper replied, shaking his head. "But if watching the show with Private comforted him and helped take his mind off worrying, it was worth every minute."

"I think Private was right when he compared you to toast, sir," Kowalski responded. "You really are soft and warm on the inside."

"Maybe so," Skipper said with a smile, "but let's keep that on the QT. Anyway, how do we proceed from here, Kowalski?"

"Way ahead of you, Skipper," Kowalski responded. "During your encounter with Princess Self-Respectra et al., I snuck over to the zoo's administrative office and used one of the computers to hack into the zoo's communications database. I then sent out requests to every zoo and aquarium in the region that has penguins for bloodwork and select tissue samples to be collected by veterinarians and expedited here to New York. I said I was conducting a long-term research study on penguin health and genetics."

"You just ordered several hundred penguins to be stuck with needles," Skipper stated. "Kowalski, you fiend!"

"Funny you should say that," Kowalski chuckled. "You're next. I've already collected a sample from myself and I'll be getting around to Rico when I'm through with you."

"Yeah, I'm only kidding," Skipper replied. "I think I'll always hate needles with a passion, but this is an exceptional circumstance. Do what you must. Just be gentle with me, OK?"

"Gentle?" Kowalski said sarcastically as he reached for two needles. "Darn, I was hoping to get a little acupuncture practice in on you. Oh, well, go ahead and climb up on my lab table."

"You really think all those requests you sent out will be taken seriously?" Skipper asked to make conversation as he laid himself down upon Kowalski's table.

"I highly doubt there will be any objections," Kowalski replied as he gave the smaller needle a little squirt in the air. "I signed my emails as Dr. K. A. Kowalski. If people think you're a doctor, you can get away with most anything without question. Just look at Dr. Blowhole." Kowalski then brought the needle to within a fraction of an inch of Skipper's abdomen. "An anesthetic with the first needle, a collection of a tiny liver tissue sample with the second. The process was exactly the same for me earlier and it will be the same with all the other penguins throughout the region. Awaiting your go-ahead to proceed."

Skipper nodded.

About 10 minutes later, Kowalski had successfully gathered the necessary tissue sample from Skipper. Two down, several hundred to go.

And so it soon began.

Analyzing the samples was a complicated process. What could be done by humans in a professional medical laboratory in mere hours was much more exhausting and time-consuming as a penguin scientist with limited resources and having to follow tweaked and antiquated procedures to get past such limitations. But Kowalski pressed on, performing initial tests on newly received samples each day while at the same time beginning further analysis on older samples that had gotten past the first stages of evaluation.

Six days after Private's condition had become known, the final test on the best so far sample was complete. Kowalski smiled as he peered through his microscope, then backed away from it to check a few boxes on a checklist he was keeping on his clipboard. Moments later, he called for Skipper to join him in the lab.

"What's the word, Kowalski?" Skipper asked as he rushed in. "Tell me it's good news."

"Very good news, sir," Kowalski replied as he handed Skipper a file folder. "I've found a perfect match for Private. All the details are contained within this medical profile."

Skipper took a quick peek inside and skimmed over a few of the documents. Although he didn't understand much of the science behind all the charts and figures, the only thing that was important was that Private would soon be able to receive the transplant he so desperately needed.

After a few moments, Skipper placed the documents back into the folder and returned it to Kowalski. "Great work, Kowalski," he said as he nodded and patted Kowalski on the back. "I'll go inform Private of the news."

And so Skipper waddled out of Kowalski's lab and over to Private, who was taking a nap in his bunk. "Hey, Private, how are you feeling?" Skipper asked as he gently woke the resting penguin.

"All right, sir," Private replied, "though I've had better days, of course."

"Well, I have some good news for you, soldier," Skipper continued. "Kowalski found a match for you."

"Oh, that's great news, Skipper!" Private said cheerfully. "How many days do you think it will be before I can have the surgery?"

"Days?" Skipper chuckled. "I think Kowalski will be ready to begin preparation on the procedure in around 15 minutes or so."

"Fifteen minutes?" Private wondered. "But I don't understand. Where's my match coming from?"

"I'm your match, Private," Skipper replied. "Of the countless penguin profiles that Kowalski has analyzed so far, I matched with you perfectly. Ain't that somethin'?"

"Really?" Private asked.

"Really," Skipper replied.

"Skipper, I have no idea what to say," Private responded, still a bit shocked. "I'm delighted, though I hate the thought of burdening you any. Maybe you should think this through a little. This is a big sacrifice, and I won't mind if you want to give it a little time."

"Negative, Private, I don't need to think about this at all," Skipper responded. "We may not be related, but you're part of the only family I have; you may be my soldier second, but you're my brother first. No matter how many times I may slap you, Kowalski, or Rico, I'd sell my soul to Dr. Blowhole himself to ensure the safety of you guys. I'd go to Hoboken for you. I'd die for you. Giving you a piece of my liver is no great sacrifice for me at all."

Private smiled. "You really are like toast, Skipper. Thank you. Really."

"Don't mention it, Private," Skipper replied as he began to help Private out of his bunk. "I'm actually glad that I'm the best match for you. With me, you know you're safe from any strange diseases, and you don't have to worry that I'm out looking for something in return."

"Yup, definitely like toast, sir," Private responded. "Like a bagel or an English muffin, too."

Skipper smiled, knowing exactly what Private meant by that, as he and Private began to head for Kowalski's lab.

A short time later, both found themselves suitably prepped and in some regards plucked for their impending procedures as they lay 10 feet apart from each other on makeshift beds in Kowalski's improvised OR. His debut performance as a surgeon was imminent.

"All right, let me give you guys a rundown on what is going to happen in the coming moments," Kowalski soon began. "Now that the two of you are prepped, the next step will be having my anesthesiologist Rico—"

"Wait, you're having Rico be the one to put us under?" Skipper interrupted.

"We're limited on penguins and I need an assistant," Kowalski responded. "Although if you'd prefer Julien—"

"Nope, Rico it is," Skipper declared. "Carry on, Kowalski."

"The next step will be to place the two of you under general anesthesia," Kowalski continued. "I'll keep all the gory details to myself—and to Rico, I suppose—but to make a long story short, roughly 60 percent of your liver, Skipper—the right lobe—will then be removed to replace all of Private's. The whole process will take several hours."

"Is it safe?" Private wondered.

"You're asking someone without a medical license, I'm afraid," Kowalski began, "but from all I've gathered, it's remarkably safer than it sounds. The humans have been doing living liver transplants since the first was done in Chicago in 1989, with very few cases of death. As for the tissue itself, the 60 percent removed from Skipper will regenerate inside of him after several weeks, as will the portion placed within you."

Rico then mumbled something inaudible to Kowalski whilst swinging around the ends of two hoses that had masks attached to them, both connected to a large blue tank.

"Rico's anxious to begin administering the anesthetic," Kowalski said as he gave Skipper and Private a quick salute. "I guess it's goodbye for now, guys. I'll see you again around suppertime."

Rico then placed one of the two masks over Skipper's beak, then did the same with Private before beginning to release the anesthetic gas from the tank.

"Breathe deeply, guys," Kowalski called to them.

"Goodnight, Private," Skipper looked over at Private and said in a sleepy, inebriated tone.

"Goodnight, Skipper," Private giggled in the same manner.

Eight hours later, Skipper awoke, a bit blurry-eyed and disoriented. After a few moments, he remembered exactly what he was doing there as he looked over at Private in the adjacent bed and smiled. "Hey, Private, are you awake yet?" he whispered over to him.

"Am I alive, Skipper?" Private responded.

"Yes, Private," Skipper answered. "And today is the first day of the rest of your life. So, how do you feel?"

"Tired, sore, and surprisingly hungry," Private replied. "Other than that I feel just like me."

"I'm glad to hear that," Skipper responded. "You know, I could honestly go for something to eat right about now myself. Isn't it like a law that patients are supposed to be given all the ice cream they can eat after major surgery? I'll have to ask Kowalski to check up on that when he gets in here."

Skipper then looked down at his abdomen; his feeling of hunger was not the only thing he shared with Private. "Looks like we'll be having matching scars," he said as he chuckled. "Though they won't be anywhere near as cool as Rico's since they'll be hidden underneath our plumage once our feathers grow back. If only we could have gotten these babies in battle there would surely be some Purple Hearts coming our way."

"Do you think that Alice will notice our new looks and become suspicious?" Private wondered.

"Alice is always suspicious, Private," Skipper answered. "But to play it safe, the two of us won't be going on display for her or any of the visitors anytime soon. We'll have to have Kowalski and Rico cover for us."

As the reality of all that had occurred suddenly rushed to him, Private then paused for a moment to think. It truly touched his heart what Skipper had done for him. How could he ever express his gratitude?

"Skipper, can I tell you something?" he asked.

"We're already talking, so there's really no need to formally request permission to speak freely," Skipper replied. "Go ahead."

"Well, I know you're treating all this as just another day at the office, sir, but everything you've done really means a lot to me," Private continued. "I used to say that Kowalski was my hero, but now I think he's got a bit of competition."

"Kowalski was responsible for your surgery," Skipper stated, affirming Kowalski's hero-worthy status. "And for thinking up a solution in the first place."

"True, but you're responsible for my life," Private replied as he began to cry a little. "I love you, Skipper. You know, in a completely brotherly, macho, manly kind of way, but I love you."

"You don't need to qualify your feelings that much, soldier, just say 'monster trucks,'" Skipper said as he smiled. "But I love you, too, Private. I really wish that we were brothers for real."

Private smiled back and then glanced down at his own abdominal wound and ran a flipper down the line of sutures. He stopped on top of the spot where his new liver was located and patted it. "We are now," he said. "And we always will be."

* * *

><p>He may have made it up off the top of his head just to cover himself, but I think Private's comparison of Skipper and toast is valid. Underneath his tough military exterior, I think Skipper truly cares about his teammates as if they were his brothers, and such feelings inspired my thoughts for <em>Hepatic Hero<em>.

I tried to make this story as medically accurate as possible, though some of the procedural and analytical items had to be penguin-styled and done with far less preparation than in the human world. Interestingly, tissue compatibility in many cases isn't as important in human transplants nowadays due to the development and use of improved anti-rejection drugs. It is true that the liver regenerates in size after a living donation in both the donor and the recipient—if you did not know that already, I'm glad that my fanfic has served an educational purpose.

Lastly, thank you to those who reviewed on the first chapter: **Private2Kowalski**, **iheartchocolates**, **ladywhiplasher**, **17Bubbleslove**, **xDark-Winged-Angelx**, **Dark Lemurs**, **Eternally Ebony**, **EppopinkfangirlXDXDXD**, and **Whisper of the Moonlight River**.

—_GrandOldPenguin  
><em>Sunday, May 15, 2011  
>6:49 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time<p> 


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